


make it last

by bunshima



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (minor choking tbh), Choking, Cunnilingus, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Spit Kink, Squirting, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunshima/pseuds/bunshima
Summary: "I see your getup and guess you're waiting for his Kingliness?", the knight says after letting go of Claude once again– that shit-eating grin ain't no secret, even in the dark. He can hear it in his voice."You've guessed right."





	make it last

**Author's Note:**

> since my first claumitri horny was so well received i decided to make a sequel!!! 
> 
> disclaimer: no beta i die like a man, this is mostly porn with an unexpected guest bringing some spice into the thing (stay tuned for a follow up on that one), do you care them? i sure do

The door leading to the kingly washroom is closed as quietly as humanly possible. Cue a soft hiss after a particular movement, a hand brought to rub a strained back. _ The thoroughly fucked and sore Claude _ in his natural habitat, everyone. He barely manages to keep himself upright as he slowly strides down the massive hall within the royal chambers that make up an entire side of the castle. ** _Lots_ ** of space for a single guy, _ but _ ** _eh–_ ** _ he wouldn't say no to this either. _ All that covers him are his pants and Dimitri's fur cloak around his shoulders. It's not much, but it'll do. _ It has to. _ His naked feet slap awfully loud against the marble floor. Claude could not give less of a shit about the noise, though. He ** _needs_ ** his bed. And a five minute nap before his beloved comes back from his idle chatter with Felix. 

About a meter away from Dimitri's bedroom, Claude finds himself stopped in his tracks. His face twists, nostrils twitching awfully for what feels like an entire minute, before his body unleashes another loud sneeze– loud enough that it echos through the hall for several excruciatingly long moments. But before it completely subsides, the poor guy sneezes once more. 

** _"Ahhh, for fuck's sake.",_ ** Claude groans, sniffling afterwards. He's never having sex outside again, at least not in Fódlan. _ No way in fucking hell. _

To his utmost displeasure he has to notice that his _ scream-sneezing _ doesn't go unnoticed. 

The main gate that leads back to the rest of the castle opens slowly, just enough for **a certain someone** to poke their head in to see what the ruckus is about. _ That's a familiar shade of red, _he notes in silence. 

_ "Who goes there?", _ Sylvain barks uncharacteristically coarse. _ Oh, such a good puppy. _

It's pretty dark in Dimitri's chambers, so it doesn't surprise him that he doesn't recognize him– although his handsome and ever bright visage is surely something to remember; he's **definitely** taking personal offense. 

"Jeez, is **that** how you greet old friends?", Claude chuckles, throwing his hands up in a mocking manner, _ "What next, _are you going to poke holes into me with your lance?" 

"Oh, Cl–" 

Before Sylvain can even utter his name, he gets silenced with exaggerated gestures. ** _No one– _ **literally no one but Dimitri's closest companions– may know that he's here. 

Sylvain seems to take the hint and quickly steps into the hall, closing the door behind him. Then he hurries over to Claude, his ornate armor seemingly getting noisier with every movement. Speaking of the other's armor, he knows that insignia– the poor piece of shit is on chamber duty and _it's a night shift, too._ **_Absolutely barbaric,_** considering what the king and his trusted _somewhat courtesan_ will be doing for the rest of the evening. 

With the demeanor of an excited puppy, the knight hugs him as best as his thick armor allows him, metal bitterly cold against Claude's bare chest. _ Yep, one pair of painfully stiff nipples coming right up. _

"I wasn't expecting you before tomorrow.", Sylvain states as he squeezes him once more _ (by the goddess, that's fucking cold) _ before pulling away, hands at his shoulders. "Hey, you look good like that."

"Flattery ain't getting you nowhere.", Claude says and gives the other a grin. He's rocking the mussed hair down look right now– he plays with the thought of letting it grow just a bit longer each time he gets complimented on it. 

The two are close enough to greet one another with pecks on both cheeks, delving into another almost crushing hug afterwards. Sylvain has been a good friend of his since the academy days– there's just _ something _ that connects someone to their wingman, even years later. Wooing Dimitri wasn't as hard as one would assume, but Claude has never said no to some _ helpful outside influences _ before. 

"I see your getup and guess you're waiting for _ his Kingliness?", _ the knight says after letting go of Claude once again– that shit-eating grin ain't no secret, even in the dark. _ He can hear it in his voice. _

"You've guessed right.", he responds, not caring to return the smug expression as he pulls the cloak tighter around his shoulders. The last thing he needs right now is Sylvain commenting on the fact that his headlights are on.

"I'll get the maids out of the picture for the night.", Sylvain states and it's moments like these where Claude can't be any more grateful for his liaison-related assistance. He doesn't want to know what the poor guy has had to hear during all these years while sacrificing his ear drums _ in a manner _ ** _most_ ** _ heroic. _

"It's for the best; Dima gets performance issues in front of an audi–"

_ "Too much info.", _ Sylvain cuts him off with a just mildly discomforted scoff. _ Ah, he loves that sound. _

Claude snorts at that. "I hear ya.", he says, but then his usually so confident tone treads awkward territory, "Soooo, since you didn't expect me so soon– you didn't happen to prep the chambers early, did you?" 

That's usually maid work, but the two of them have been entertaining an agreement of their own for years. It's nothing special, really– Claude just doesn't want some random chamber minx to _ kill his vibe. _Yep, that's all there is to it. Seeing a friendly face keeps his spirits high. Even more when that face happens to be rather nice to look at. 

_ "Oh, right.", _ the knight murmurs in an absent-minded manner, before just leaving Claude to himself and making a beeline for the royal chambers, armor clanking obnoxiously during his stride. One more reason why he absolutely fucking **hates** metal armor, aside from it being awfully clunky and not that easy on the eyes. _ Wyvern leather doesn't alert every single enemy in a three mile radius. _

He follows suit and utters another amused snort when Sylvain opens the chamber door for him, going as far as giving him an exaggerated bow, hand gesture and everything like he's above the average noble scum,_ "After you." _

"Thought I just said somethin' 'bout flattery.", Claude mumbles, his tone stern and rough, but it's in good fun. 

_ "It's not flattery if it's common courtesy to me." _

Within the royal bedchambers it's pitch black, but thankfully not for long. Cue the snap of a finger behind Claude and the room's generous fireplace is set ablaze at once, a change in temperature immediately noticeable. _ Oh, thank-fucking-goddess for that literally fiery redhead at his side. _ Sylvain had mentioned before that he tried to get Felix to teach him some magic– successfully, as it seems. _ Well, all the better for Claude. _

He pays no heed to the interior of Dimitri's bedroom, _ save for his massive bed. _ No longer being able to grip any coherent thought other than ** _ 'must lie down',_ ** Claude drags his feet on his way, eventually succumbing to the dull ache in his abdomen. He has mild issues settling down, groaning as he gets into a position that's the most comfortable option for now: on his back with legs spread far but not to the point where it's indecent. He's so fucking sore. And cramping. _ Oh goddess, those cramps. _Usually not a problem at all, but it's been weeks since the last time he's had sex, so it's hitting him with extra force. At least the fur of Dimitri's cloak and the pelts on his bed are mildly comforting. 

In the meantime, his knight buddy went into the room adjacent to the bedchambers– the kingly dressing room– to retrieve... the usual stuff. The sound of his armor making noises with his every move from the other room almost gives this whole situation a downright hilarious ambience. _ Ah, how he missed it. _

Left with nothing to do, Claude's gaze wanders aimlessly– at least until it lands on a silvery goblet on the small drawer beside the bed. Looks like someone had a drink earlier today. _ It's half full, _ he notes as he takes it into his hand and peeks at the pale liquor– _ plum wine? _ Huh, nice. He decides to take a sip, then swirls the booze absent-mindedly, his other arm coming to rest leisurely over his hip after he rolled onto his side, careful not to spill any of the wine. 

_ Claude is quite a fine sight to behold, _ bedded on lustrous beast pelts in all his bare-chested and messy haired glory. Dimitri's furred cloak draped over his shoulder is a nice touch too, but the silver goblet with intricate adornments is the one touch that makes the entire picture. It's a beautiful piece of handiwork. He's so busy with the task of gently swirling his booze and occasionally taking a small sip that he doesn't notice when Sylvain returns. 

_ "Woh– _ what did I do to deserve an offer like this?" The knight chokes in his own words quite a bit, voice almost reduced to croaks. Even the grin he wears seems to waver ever slightly. Oh, is that blushing he sees? To lust after the king's beloved paramour, _ how obscene. _

_ "Ain't no touching the merchandise for _ ** _you,_ ** _ my friend.", _ Claude responds while taking yet another sip, giving the other a half-lidded gaze over the edge of his goblet. He holds eye contact for a few excruciatingly long moments before throwing the knight a playful wink. _ Dimitri would've torn off his pants by now, so kudos to Sylvain's self control– _ although, perhaps it is the fact that he's currently treading the lion's den and flirting with the gallows in case he should _ 'slip up'. _

Sylvain cares not to give him a response, _ not to mention defend himself, _ and simply goes to drop the stack of towels he had brought by the foot of the bed. "What else do you need?" He sounds strained, _ badly contained, even. _

"A bucket of water and a rag would be nice.", Claude responds, still giving the other man the same look, even after moving the goblet away from his face and returning to swirling it idly. 

His friend leaves once more, this time for the washroom, haste undeniable in his gait. Seems like he wants to get back onto his post real quick all of a sudden. He takes the last sip of his wine and after putting it back onto the nightstand, his hand starts feeling for the bottle of this high-end booze beside the bed, taking a hold of its neck eventually. Claude is quick to fill his goblet as much as possible without the wine spilling over, greed suddenly having the man in its grasp. _ His beloved Dima probably has a few bottles more in his cellar anyway. _

By the time Sylvain returns with bucket and rag, Claude has the goblet rested in his hand, eyeing the knight with an ever subtle look that can't possibly be described with one word– cunning, _lustful,_ **_victorious._** It's no secret: Claude takes pride in knowing that his mere presence is so irresistible as to tempt even a soon-to-be married man. Then again,_ this is _**_Sylvain,_**_ also known as the local skirt chaser, lover of many and keeper of none… well, save for a certain man. _

"Be a dear and put it down by the drawer.", Claude instructs with a gesture of his goblet, taking yet another mouthful of wine. _ He ain't gonna lie, he's in a bit of a party mood, _ but that's probably the alcohol speaking by now. 

Claude receives no verbal response, just a simple nod, and the knight does as he's told… _ but then comes to a halt. _

Sylvain's eyes are fixated on him, lips pressed into a tight line and eyes close to forming slits, as he stands before him at the bed. No doubt about it, he's _ contemplating, _ pondering on the **treatment** he should give the king's paramour and close friend. Claude knows, he has a good heart– _ one of _ ** _purest gold,_ ** _ even– _ but he simply lacks restraint. A lingering touch here, a slip of his bare thigh there. Sylvain is sure to notice it all. _ This has been going on for years. _

Then, Sylvain's gauntlet reaches for the silver goblet, his grip so tight that he might as well bend the metal. Claude allows him to take it, enjoys the way his fingers tremble against the firm material. He has known those brown eyes as disinterested and cold, but now they're set alight in the warm shine of the fireplace. The goblet is turned in the knight's grip before he lifts it to his face, so that his lips nip at the same spot where Claude's have been. Their heated gazes seem to reach new heights. 

His breath hitches, barely audible. Perhaps it's the fact that he's still riled up from earlier, but he can definitely feel his clit twitch in reaction to Sylvain pretty much beating him at his own little game. He can't even be mad about that, not when he can actually feel himself grow wet with arousal once more. 

"His Highness has good taste.", Sylvain says, voice low, as he puts the goblet back into Claude's hand– and licks his lips. _ He puts so much effort into this. _

Such a shame that Claude will **always** think of _ Dimitri's _ head between his thighs, no matter how hard the little knight tries to awaken something within him. Sure, he's easy on the eyes, _ but cute isn't nearly enough to win him over. _

_ "That he does." _ A badly suppressed grin makes its way onto his features, the slightest hint of teeth showing past his lips. "But as much as I like having you around, I think that it's high time you attend your chamber duty."

For a moment, he had almost referred to him as 'Margrave' before realizing that that's too much even for their usual snark-filled banter. Things have been kinda bitter for Sylvain, now that he thinks about it– _ what's a Margrave doing as the General of the royal guard? _ Word is that asking for Duke Fraldarius' hand led him to stay in Fhirdiad. And based on the things he heard through the grapevine from the maids, Felix seems to be saving himself for their marriage– no wonder he'd be desperate enough to hit on the king's paramour. See, Claude could not give less of a shit about all the gossip that arises at a king's court, _ but these are people he knows. _ That's where things get _ interesting, _ after all. Even better when he **isn't** directly involved.

"I'll see you tomorrow. _ At breakfast.", _ Sylvain downright grunts at him all of a sudden, his expression now cold with eyebrows creased and ever slight crinkles at his nose. **Disgust.** At Claude? _ At _ ** _himself?_ ** Perhaps he realized that the thoughts he's been playing with aren't the most morally sound out there. _ In the end, it's for the best. _

"And I'll see if I can even get up before midday." Not just because he's quite positive that Dimitri is going to fuck him till he's bed-ridden, but also because he barely survived his journey halfway across the continent. He doesn't even know where his fucking luggage is yet.

He receives a mildly hate-filled look at that, the knight likely aware of the implications. _Oh._ _Oh, _**_wow._** Could he actually be jealous that Claude is getting laid? _That's something he didn't even consider. _But before he can even think of rubbing more salt into his friend's wounds, Sylvain has already left him to himself. _How rude of him to not say bye properly, _but oh well.

However, with no one there to focus his attention on, it shifts somewhere else– _ and it sure isn't the mild cramps in his abdomen. _His underwear feels almost painfully tight in the front. Maybe Sylvain made him run a bit hotter than he'd like to admit. Just for the hell of it, Claude decides to clench around nothing and is immediately rewarded with an involuntary jolt of his swollen clit. He knows, he's gotta put the goblet back on the nightstand to avoid spilling any of the wine and he does so– but not before taking a last big swig. Even with the pressing matters at hand, Claude takes his time with getting his pants off, his movements a bit sluggish thanks to both fatigue and the alcohol (it wasn't even that much, jeez). 

After throwing his trousers off the bed and he found a comfortable spot, one of his hands makes its way down his body, sure to caress his skin as it does, and he's not surprised at all to find that he's once again utterly soaked, his underwear damp with arousal under the pads of his fingers. Dimitri isn't here yet and Claude doesn't feel like he can wait any longer, so he might as well… _ help himself a bit. _

A shimmy of his backside follows in to make sure he's really resting in the best spot in this bed of fancy furs, his free hand curling into Dimitri's cloak– _ huh. _ He **completely** forgot he had it. With an empty head single-handedly driven by only the most carnal of desires, Claude just shoves it into his face and takes a strong whiff. _ Oh thank goddess, it's not fresh out of the wash. _ There's an ever subtle hint of his lover's musk to it, but it just smells like Dimitri for the most part. The exact details of that are hard to describe, so he simply settles for... ** _home._ **

_ Dimitri smells like home to him. _

For once Claude can allow himself such sentimentality, _ because he's too goddamn horny to be embarrassed right now. _ His eyes are shut tight as his hand seems to have developed a mind of its own and his fingers run over the large damp spot in his underwear. For now it's no more than a teasing motion without much pressure, circling _ around _ his engorged clit on purpose. Soon enough the motion is repeated down the stretch of his folds, his hole quivering at his own ministrations before he returns to teasing his clit. Claude repeats this a few times more his underwear gets to the point of unbearably wet. He wastes no more time than necessary with flinging the drenched fabric off his person and is quick to resume where he left off. 

After a load of teasing, Claude finally allows himself a fleeting touch to his clit and it's…_ incredibly potent, _ to say the least. A soft gasp fights its way out of him, a healthy dose of Dimitri's scent flooding his senses anew and that only seems to amplify the entire array of things he feels right now. It doesn't take long for his fingers to start rubbing his clit in quick and desperate circles, loud huffs and wet squelching bouncing off the bedroom walls. There's a few thoughts that bring Claude to his climax with ease, but for tonight he settles for something rather simple– _ and embarrassing; _ he's probably going to die tomorrow morning when he remembers the solo fun. _ That much for being too horny to get embarrassed. _

His insides clench without his volition as he imagines his lover… _ making sweet love to him. _

** _Yep,_ ** there it is again, that bad arrangement of words that makes him cringe internally like he's seventeen again and doesn't want to hear anything about true love. However, the memory of Dimitri's weight and heat against his frame soon rids him of everything he doesn't need in his head right now. Instead, he chooses to recall the countless sweet nothings whispered to him as his lover holds him close. His abdomen responds with mild protests when he tenses up once more. Claude's mind is quick to jump straight to the feeling of Dimitri's cock stretching him, the tip pressing against the innermost part of his dripping cunt. A moan close to keening manages to make its way past gritted teeth, a droplet of spit spilling from the corner of his mouth. _ He's close already. _

Breathing gone ragged, thighs quivering almost pitifully. His fist is curled into the fur cloak so tight that he might start tearing out the thick pelt if he applied any more pressure. A throaty groan wells up in the depths of his chest, brows furrowing as his jaw eventually falls slack. His clenched teeth are finally out of the way, which allows a barrage of soft moans to break forth while his body, taut as a bowstring, arches off the fur that began to stick to his sweat-clad back. The rest of his frame soon follows its example, head falling back and toes curling into the pelts beneath. 

All he needs is a last quick swipe over his swollen clit before the various thoughts of his lover taking him ever so gently send him over the edge.

Claude never gets quite as loud when he just gets off on his own, so his orgasm is limited to a drawn out and broken-sounding moan, the wet noises from rubbing himself seemingly only growing in intensity. He keeps the repetitive movement up for a few breaths longer until his wrist eventually rewards him with excruciating cramps for his hard work. Whereas his muscles were taut before, his entire body tension diminishes to almost nothing, causing him to flop onto his back and making the bed creak beneath him in turn. 

Soft panting heaves within his chest as he wallows in the soft waves his climax had brought, slowly feeling them subside. The occasional throb of his clit tempts him to give it some more attention, but then his wrist reminds him that it suddenly developed a refractory period. Thus, Claude just lies there for another moment or two, _ without any care in the world. _ It's been quite a while since he was this relaxed, so he takes all the time he needs to properly enjoy this momentary peace. His dry hand starts tracing shapes over his abdomen, as Dimitri would sometimes do it. He never understood why he does it, _ but it's not like he needs to. _

Soon after the nice feeling at the pit of his gut fades, he sits up and leisurely sticks his wet fingers into his mouth to clean them while getting Dimitri's cloak out from under his ass and flings it out of bed. As expected, the pads of his fingers are all wrinkled against his tongue from the excessive amount of slick, his own taste putting a subtle crease into his brow. He always starts stinking when he gets horny, but _ the taste _ is even a step above that. **Not** necessarily gross, but ** _not_ ** entirely pleasant either. _ Fuck any erotica writer stating that pussy tastes like anything other than… well, _ ** _pussy._ **

Once satisfied with his cleaning job, Claude pulls his fingers from his mouth to wipe the spit on his thigh with a soft grumble and casts his gaze forward, looking right into a quite familiar visage, beet-red in appearance. It takes him a moment to notice that **Dimitri** is standing there– at the door, directly in his field of view, **_right-fucking-there– _**even though he's one massive hunk of a man. There's a lot going on in Dimitri's face right now, so he doesn't even try to decipher any of the things he could feel. 

"Oh… _ h-hey.", _ Claude stammers, his face quickly having gained a similar hue of red. _ His usual suaveness is nowhere to be seen. _ "How long have you been… standin' there, huh?"

"Five minutes… o-or so.", Dimitri croaks with sweat on his brow, eye blown wide and thighs pressed tight together with a hand covering his– 

**He's touching himself. **

His lover isn't trying to hide his arousal, he's literally palming his stiff cock through his pants. Dimitri is rather tame compared to Claude, so the sight that presents itself to him manages to rob him of his breath for a brief moment… at least before he realizes that he can easily gain the upper hand like this. _ Of course, _ they have sex out of love and not to satisfy their mutual desire to dominate one another, but sometimes– ** _sometimes_ ** Claude enjoys feeling like he has power over Dimitri, simply by using what the goddess gifted him at birth. 

The initial shock subsides. Claude's posture returns to its usual nonchalant state, giving his lover a lop-sided grin, canines showing. He leans back just a bit into the pillows to present himself to Dimitri at his most favourable angle. His hand snakes down his form and it's sure to stroke every inch of skin on the way, fingers running through his happy trail. Once at his wet folds, Claude takes his sweet time to caress them ever gentle before going back to teasing his clit.

_ All while never once taking his eyes off his lover. _

Dimitri seems to thoroughly enjoy the show, still stroking the shaft of his cock through fabric but picking up the pace just a bit. 

The display is enough for a new surge of slick to wet Claude's cunt. In retrospect, he should've put out the towels beforehand. His other hand is brought up to his mouth and teeth find the second knuckle of his index finger as he thinks of the various ways Dimitri's cock can (and will) ruin him. Perhaps his body is playing tricks on him, but he can already feel his climax approach. ** _Rapidly,_ ** _ at that. _He groans loudly in surprise, his (relatively) free hand returning to claw at the pelts beneath him while its counterpart aches horribly and begins to stutter in the middle of its movements. His mouth falls open in a silent shout of pleasure, a few broken sounds forcing themselves out of his throat. 

Oversensitive as can be, Claude quivers and jolts in his spot, legs twitching as he closes them. Again, all tension leaves him and he drops into bed, suddenly having forgot the situation he's currently in and that Dimitri is with him. But soon enough he's once again aware that he isn't alone. Sweaty hands curl around his ankles. He utters a weak noise at the sensation but that's it. 

_ Aaaaand the supposed control he just had is gone as quick as it came. _

Dimitri is quick to wrench his thighs apart (without hurting him, mind you) and Claude half expects him to just fuck him then and there, but that ends up being wishful thinking. The sensation of his lover's lips around his throbbing clit almost makes him cry out, _ but then Dimitri starts _ ** _ sucking_ ** _ on it. _ Claude's hands fly up to his mouth to cover it and his legs close around the other's head, both out of reflex. His lover knows very well that quite literally sucking him off is the easiest way to make him absolutely lose it– ** _ that bastard._ ** He stops sucking for a moment, moving his head from side to side and grinding his tongue up against his clit, only to continue where he left off. 

Claude is at a point where he can't even praise Dimitri for what he's doing to him. Every single inch of him is covered in goose-bumps, eyes rolling into the back of his head, as his hands are clamped down on his mouth, knuckles gone pale from the pressure he exerts. Even when his body makes a decision on its own and rolls onto its side, Dimitri follows and makes sure to keep his head where it's desperately needed. 

_ There's so much to take in at once that Claude's head is swimming. _ Dimitri seems not to care for the disgustingly wet noises he's making and if anything it's just the cherry on top in this. _ He fucking loves it, _ but there's no way he can voice that right now. As if the sucking wasn't enough, there's teeth ever carefully nipping at the base of his clit. He's never tried that all those years prior and Claude is absolutely going to complain to him about that; ** _it's fucking amazing._ ** Perhaps it's due to his body being fully shifted into pleasure mode right now, but the sensation only adds more to the whole pile, even though he's usually quite wary of teeth anywhere near his clit. _ Or used to be, rather. _

Then, _ an all too familiar feeling _ settles in his abdomen and _ it sure _ ** _isn't_ ** _ his next orgasm. _ He shivers at that, spit covered palms removing themselves from his mouth to speak to his best abilities, ** _"Towel."_ **

It seems that Dimitri had thought of grabbing a towel on his way between Claude's legs, evident in the fact that he can feel fabric getting bunched up under his thigh and his ass– _ well, this is as good as it gets. _ Another hard suck on his clit follows and he can't help but swear in response, followed by another shiver shaking his entire body. He's dangerously close– and the fact that Dimitri starts rubbing his puckered asshole with his thumb isn't doing him any favours.

The smallest inklings of contractions settle within his abdomen and more shivering racks through him, the faint hint of tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He can't help but shout in pure ecstasy as warmth floods his every sense. His eyes squeeze shut, small tears dripping into the pillow under his head, and the first physical cringe of the night follows when he can hear Dimitri swallow and slurp loudly. Even though his climax is so goddamn intense that it's cutting his amount of brain cells in half, Claude knows _ very, _ ** _very_ ** _ well _ what just transpired– _ and he'd rather hide his face for the rest of the night. _

A shriek leaves him when his lover gives his clit a last hard suck before he pulls away, but stops to strike his flat palm across his ass cheek. Claude cries out once more at that, his voice bleeding into a broken moan as the initial pain from the impact begins to fade. He made a big fucking mess; _ he can tell that much even without looking. _ In spite of his lasting embarrassment at the general situation, Claude can't help but cast his gaze at Dimitri… and pretty much immediately regrets it.

The expression he's given is nothing short of animalistic and downright hungry, _ like he's just a piece of meat waiting to be torn apart, _ but at the same time he notices that Dimitri's entire face is glistening in the shine of the fireplace, his eyepatch damp and bangs glued to his forehead. 

_ He really, truly, utterly squirted all over Dimitri's goddamn face– and he swallowed most of it. _

Claude doesn't know whether it's the other's expression or the circumstances in general, but he can feel a last pitiful tinkle leave him, dripping down the inside and back of his thigh, only to be soaked up by the towel. 

One of his lover's fingers hooks behind the thick band that secures his drenched eyepatch and pulls on it so hard it snaps right off his head, simply dropping it afterwards. A broad hand grips Claude's shoulder, turning him onto his back with surprising gentleness. He's so dazed from his last orgasm that he simply lets Dimitri manhandle him like this– _ he takes anything his beloved Dima gives him, after all. _

While one hand holds him down with considerable pressure, resulting in him hunching over Claude's frame, its counterpart quickly gets Dimitri's throbbing cock out of his pants, stroking it with haste. And he's still wearing that insatiable look on his visage, his healthy eye switching between different parts of Claude: the flushed and tuckered out face, lovely full lips all puffy, the reddened peaks of his body, the engorged folds of his cunt– _ the list could go on ad infinitum, _ because there's many things Dimitri finds so incredibly irresistible about Claude while he's floating on cloud nine after a good orgasm (or three).

_ But it seems a certain part caught his attention in particular. _

Claude notices that his lover's gaze had gotten stuck somewhere on the way downward. A sudden movement follows. He can barely react in time.

The hand that used to press him into the bedding went for his throat, exerting the ever slightest bit of pressure. _ Claude can feel primal excitement surge through him, _ eyes lighting up as a toothy grin slips onto his face. Both of his hands immediately reach for his lover's wrist and encourage him to press harder, nostrils flaring at what's happening to him. _ If only Dimitri choked him more. _

Sweat beads on the other's forehead as the pace of his arm quickens, a small blotch of precum drizzling onto Claude's abdomen. The grip on his throat tightens just slightly which makes goose-bumps rise on his skin once more, _ but it's not quite enough to restrict the airflow. _ As wild and horny as Dimitri gets sometimes, there's a few things he won't do, even if Claude asked– choking him ** _properly_ ** is one of those things. Eventually Dimitri breaks into rough panting, his hand focusing its attention on the tip of his cock. _ Oh, he's close. _

**"Open your mouth.",** Dimitri grunts at him in a tone coarse like sandpaper.

Excitement bubbles within Claude. _ He's gonna make him swallow. Fuck, that's hot. _ Obedient as he can be, he does as he's told. His jaw falls slack, his tongue draped over his bottom lip in anticipation. _ However, he isn't quite prepared for what comes next. _ He can see Dimitri roll his tongue within his mouth, the appendage briefly pressing against the inside of his cheek, almost a bit like he's contemplating something. _ Though, that proves itself to be a fluke rather quickly. _

His lover leans down just a bit and– _ by the goddess Sothis herself, holy be her name– _ Claude does not expect Dimitri to **spit** into his open mouth. He has a pretty good aim; most of it lands on his tongue, except for a small glob that hits his upper lip.

** _"Swallow."_ **

_ And that Claude does. _ He makes sure it's noisy as all hell, his gaze becoming half-lidded as he licks even the stray blotch of spit off his lip. Although his spirits have left him by now, his lips manage to crack into a tired, yet wicked grin.

Dimitri gives an almost high-pitched moan at that, brows creasing as his healthy eye squeezes shut. _ Yep, _ he knows that sound together with that face– _ he's cumming. _ He just expects to feel the familiar gross sensation of cum hitting his stomach and in the end, that's exactly what happens, _ except that the first spurt hits him right on the cheek, _ only for the rest of it to drip into a small puddle on him.

_ "Hoh, that's a _ ** _lotta_ ** _ pressure.", _Claude comments before giving a hoarse laugh, wiping the single streak on his face off with his finger and then promptly sticks it into his mouth. 

By the time he finishes his sentence Dimitri is still milking himself for all he's worth, face twisted in pleasure and bottom lip caught between his teeth. That must've been a long, stressful talk with Felix. _ Such a good boy for holding it all for him. _ Once done with squeezing out every drop of cum he has to offer, Dimitri lets go of his throat and is quick to reach for the bucket and rag by the bed. _ Oh goddess. Oh thank goddess, Dima is going to clean him up. He feels so fucking disgusting but also doesn't want to _ ** _get up_ ** _ for another bath for quite obvious reasons. _ Even the mere thought of walking right now causes him discomfort. _ Yeah, he'd rather not. _

"I– I'm sorry, that was gross.", his lover tells him while wiping his abdomen down and rinses the rag before gently cleaning Claude's bits, spreading his legs carefully as he does so. 

And only one orgasm later, he's a completely changed man. _ Just like that. _

As unfitting as the thought may seem for the situation, it's moments like these where he realizes that Dimitri is the right one for him– Sylvain, _ goddess bless his soul for getting so much shit from Claude, _ wouldn't do this for him. _ He's sure of it. _ There's quite a few things ** _his_ ** _ man _ does that he simply can't see any other random man doing. He'd give some specifics on that but his number of functional brain cells has officially been reduced to the single digits. _ Might as well call him 'cum-for-brains' after Dimitri ate his pussy like he's a starving man on death row. _

"Pfft, I can handle some spunk.", he snorts in response at that, his fatigue now audible in his voice. 

"N-no, not that." Dimitri shakes his head, dropping the rag back into the bucket and taking one of the dry towels by the foot of the bed to clean his face after the involuntary shower Claude gave him. "The thing with the spitting. I think I… I overdid it."

_ "It was pretty goddamn hot, _ if I'm honest." Cue a soft sigh, all limbs stretched from his form. "Won't say no to a next time."

"Noted. For a next time.", his lover replies as he settles on his half of the bed before quickly getting his sweat-drenched clothes off himself and having them join Claude's on the floor. _ Yeah, he didn't look comfortable at all in those. _

Claude can't keep himself from giving a little whistle at his lover stripping before him. ** _"Fuck_ ** _ yeah, _ it's high time I get to see some skin too." 

Cue Dimitri hiding his chest behind an arm while his other hand covers his crotch, that familiar hue of red returning to onto his pale skin. That ever subtle pout he loves so much is making its way onto his face too. _ Ahh, so cute. _ However, something seems to catch Dimitri's attention, expression lighting up in an adorable manner. He wants to ask his lover about what's up with him, but decides to keep his mouth shut for now. He scoots closer to Claude, a hand carefully caressing his chest, seemingly enjoying the sensation of it against his palm. 

_ Chest hair. _ Claude started growing _ chest hair. _ An important personal milestone, considering the issues he's had with getting his sideburns to grow out. 

"Ah, you're–" Dimitri seems to have difficulty with gathering his thoughts and forming words for a moment, but then decides to hit him at full force. "You get more handsome each time that I see you."

"I know you're just trying to get some with that sweet talk, Dima.", he states while he combs his sweat-clad hair out of his face. _ Of course he's just pulling his leg. _ "Give me like… five minutes or something." 

He can't help but give a little grunt in discomfort when the cramps in his abdomen make their grand return. _ Yep, that's ouch. Big ouch. _ But with Dimitri here, it's not as bad. Claude's fingers curl around the wrist of his lover's hand that was caressing his chest hair with utmost adoration and gently guides it down to his stomach, holding his palm over his abdomen. Dimitri has some incredible body heat, so his hands work **really** well as hot water bottles– which is perfect since the former Faerghus territory never goes above _ fuck-all-negative-celsius. _At first, Dimitri seems willing to defend his honor as king of Fódlan over Claude's heinous accusation but his expression soon softens when he notices what he's doing. A hint of something understanding glimmers in his gaze as he tenderly caresses a small stretch of skin with his thumb. 

Dimitri has gotten used to the fact that he's a lot to take in for Claude– _ in the most literal sense possible– _ over the years, so he's not alarmed… _ well, not anymore at least. _ He used to have full-blown panic attacks at the mere prospect of hurting someone during something so intimate, until he eventually understood that the goddess meant well with... _ his equipment _ (maybe a bit too well). And in addition to that, Claude is an entire head shorter than Dimitri. _ One can imagine what this entails. _

"Was… what we did earlier too much?" Cue a pause from Dimitri's side. "A-at the courtyard?" 

"If you ask my bits, ** _yeah.",_ ** Claude responds and rests his hand atop his lover's, "But if you ask **me,** personally, I could go _ at least _ another three rounds."

He can see Dimitri's nostrils flare at that. _ Fucking hell. _

**"Whoa.", ** is all that manages to make it out of him. Seems like he really, really missed him over those few weeks; it sure does feel like he's just unloading weeks of sexual frustration onto him in one night– _ quite literally. _

_ "Can I touch you.", _ his lover asks, but it doesn't sound like a question at all. It's _ demanding, _ ** _commanding_ ** _ almost, _ but he very obviously respects his boundaries, so he doesn't make his move. _ Yet. _

Claude wants to respond, _ he really does. _ He wants to tell Dimitri to just utterly ravish him, no matter how much he'll regret it the morning after, but his functional brain cells are still nowhere to be found in that usually so eloquent head of his, which leaves him with the awfully horny ones. The most he can do is give his lover the infamous puppy eyes, glazed over thanks to some leftover tears from earlier. 

And _ oh boy, _ saying that Claude's expression does _ things _ to Dimitri is downright an understatement in this case.

There's a shaky exhale, his palm withdrawing from his stomach. The other is quick to settle down next to him, resting on his side while Claude remains on his back. _ Dimitri is so close. _ One can only speak of reflex when his arm snakes around his lover's shoulders without his volition, fingers digging into his skin. _ He's so, so close. _ His lover's breath fans across his skin in soft huffs, a warm shiver befalling him. In an incredibly tender motion, Dimitri allows his forehead to sink against Claude's and he could've sworn his heart leapt from his chest right then and there. 

But, all the anticipation be damned, _ nothing _ shall follow. No kiss. Nothing said. No further touches. 

_ Dimitri is holding the tension. _

Once again, there's a lot going on in Dimitri's expression, but he can easily read every single_ 'I want you'_ and _'I love you'_ off his visage. Claude's heartbeat drones in his ears, his skin searing hot. Dimitri might just kill him at this rate, but if it happens, it shall– _and_ _that's where his weirdly sentimental side comes to play again, at the worst possible moments like it always does._ It feels so horribly, _horribly_ cliché to even think about; Dimitri would just have to say the word and he'd readily lay his life down for him. They've both seen one another at their roughest, their ugliest, _their most vulnerable_… and it's been a long seven years since they have decided to make_ 'all of it'_ official, so they practically got the worst of it; the first year after the war is high in the list of things he never wants to go through ever again.

Claude doesn't know whether it's just the cold weather blues or if his fatigue is making him emotional, but the mere thought of someone sticking with his sorry ass for that long– _ in such a way, too– _ manages to drive the tiniest of tears into the corners of his eyes. He's had a few youth loves here and there (perhaps even some that had the potential to become something more serious), but Dimitri remains the only one it worked out with. _ And Claude would make the same choice again. _

"Please. _ Kiss me.", _ he says and his voice is no more than a keen, meant only for Dimitri to hear. 

The request causes his lover to come to a halt, _ denying him of it. _ Again, nothing is said and he upholds the tension between them– _ he knows well what is about to follow and wouldn't miss it for anything in the world. _

"I love you.", Claude tells him in an incredibly tender tone of voice. _ He's audibly choked up. _

Dimitri seems to have mercy on his poor soul. He brings their lips together all gentle and tender, Claude's hands immediately brought up to frame his face in both palms. It may sound like a chaste kiss, but it's actually far from that– their embrace is wanton, _hungry even,_ and soon they take it a step further with open mouths and tongues ground together, Claude even _moaning_ at the friction. _There's no saying how much he missed this._ Dimitri was probably going to play with him till he begs for it, but all of that is thrown out of the window. Without breaking their kiss, he rolls on top of Claude, who helps him with getting between his legs properly. Spit has started to trickle down the corner of his mouth, which is enough for his thoroughly fucked brain to remind him of _'the thing with the spitting'_, leaving him wanting **more.** _If only it cooperated like this when it's actually important._

They break their kiss rather abruptly, much to Claude's disdain. He doesn't tend to voice his complaints when Dimitri decides it's enough, but this is different. _ He _ ** _needs_ ** _ him. Just a little bit longer. _ There's no place in tenderness in his motions when his fingers curl into the other's hair tight, pulling him back into a heated embrace. 

He's at the point of being so sensitive that the mere sensation of Dimitri's tongue in his mouth drives him up the wall, leaving his brows furrowed and fingers clawing at the scalp under the pads of them. Muffled moans manage to fight their way out of Claude and he can feel his lover's cock jolt against his mound. There are no words for how much he needs Dimitri inside of him, but the fact that his hips start grinding every gently on the other's shaft without his volition is quite telling on its own. 

Claude allows his hands to fall off the other's shoulders, clawing into the pillow his head is rested on. He makes sure to spread his legs all nice and wide for what's about to come– even though they're still preoccupied with putting their tongues down one another's throats. Well, he's always been one to think ahead. 

The crucial lack of oxygen is what causes them to break their kiss once more, leaving Claude with a dazed look on his face. A shiver chases through him when Dimitri goes for his neck and proceeds to trail wet kisses along the side of it. He's almost kind of glad that his lover pulls away after that because he's past the point of simple overstimulation and is headed straight to absolute sensory overload. They didn't even get to the actual _ meat _ (how funny, Claude) of the situation yet and he's already tingling all over, completely out of breath and extremely sensitive. Dimitri sits up properly, gently aligning their hips and bringing some distance between them. 

However, now that there's nothing to distract him, Claude can **really** feel how tuckered out he is. The heavy feeling of fatigue rests heavy upon his shoulders, _ yet he still wants more– _ although the unfocused stare and relatively empty expression would leave anyone to question if he's even into this. 

"Are you feeling alright?", Dimitri asks in a soft tone as he gently caresses the insides of Claude's thighs, likely feeling the goosebumps under his touch.

_ "Better than that.", _he speaks with a soft sigh in his tone and a tired smile on his face.

Although most of its usual radiance was sapped from it, Claude's smile is still captivating enough to make Dimitri stop in his tracks and just look at him for a few moments longer before he even thinks of prepping himself with some spit (albeit that's rather unnecessary considering that Claude's… general situation).

"How– how do you want… 'it'?", his lover asks, already nudging his folds with the tip of his cock at the same time. 

**"Have your way with me, Dima."**

It's _ commanding, _ yet tender in tone– and definitely enough to make Dimitri's face light up in a bright red. Claude's smile gains a smug twist to it, one side tugged up higher than its counterpart. The other seems to be at a loss for another moment, barely able to spread his folds with a trembling hand. Gently, his hips press forward, just enough to enter Claude up to the tip and a little more.

It's likely the anticipation of finally being filled, but he reacts more than he usually would have. The smug expression is effectively wiped off his visage and is replaced by a mouth fallen agape, eyes fallen halfway shut with furrowed brows, head thrown back in addition._ It feels so fucking good, _ and he lets Dimitri hear that with a drawn-out moan, throaty and deep, ending it with a soft whine. He's about a hundred percent sure that his lover contemplated to ask him another time if he's okay, but then quickly discards that thought to give him more. By the time he's in to the hilt, Claude has gone almost completely limp in his spot, tingling all over.

Likely getting impatient by now, Dimitri sets a steady pace and again, _ it does more for Claude than it should. _ Another one of those lengthy moans falls from his mouth, but this time his eyes roll back, causing him to give off the impression that it's time for an exorcism.

Cue a snort from Dimitri. _ A fucking snort. _ "Goddess, what was _ that?" _

"K-keep talkin' and– _ and I'll make sure you'll lose a few inches– _ so I don't make that face anymore.", Claude manages to slur. He wishes whole-heartedly that he could've put more bite into that hollow threat, but it's kinda hard to sound serious when you're three orgasms in and a fourth one is on its way.

"Ohh, you have me q–" Dimitri is about to rob him of his last bits of dignity with a truly devasting blow– _ he's sure of it– _ but Claude cuts him off with a soft and heartfelt curse.

"F-fuck, Dima– I'm–" His moans have gotten rather breathy with a few whimpers sprinkled in, his abdomen contracting without his volition. **That** didn't take long. _ Goddess, that's embarrassing. _ At least he doesn't have to worry about that refractory bullshit, though. _ "Rub my clit." _

His lover puts more force into his motions as he starts thumbing at the engorged nub and giving it rough flicks– and that's all it takes to push him over the edge. The overstimulation is certainly having its effect on him by now; this climax isn't quite as _ god-shattering _ as the ones prior, the sensation rather dull in comparison. He doesn't make much noise either, just a few throaty moans that sound vaguely pained, thanks to the fact that he literally cannot stop himself from whining. However, the sheer heat that settled in his lower half is at least ten times more intense, leaving him to burn up against the sheets. He's beet-red all over by now. His lover continues to fuck him through it– but he doesn't seem willing to stop at all.

"I bet you have another one in you.", Dimitri says, the ever subtle hint of a grin on his expression as he keeps moving in hard thrusts and even adds more pressure to his clit. 

It doesn't help that Claude can already feel _another_ climax building up. He's almost ab it mortified to notice that there wasn't really a 'coming down'; _he's still cumming. _The scorching heat gathering in his abdomen stays put, making his thighs quiver and hips jut back at Dimitri's like they've developed a mind of their own. In spite of all that, his moans have died down considerably, leaving him to gasp and _maybe_ sigh at most. A particularly rough snap of his lover's pelvis _and it's happening _**_again _**_already._

All he can do is sob loudly, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and down his chin, while his second orgasm rips across his spine like lightning struck, his sweat-drenched body arching off the mattress for mere moments in an involuntary jolt. A high-pitched moan manages to force itself out of his battered throat. Cue a horrid voice crack when he throws his head back, new surges of pure ecstasy continuing to ripple. _ And _ ** _then_ ** _ his fucking boyfriend decides to stop. _ He's not gonna lie, he likes it when the fine line between pleasure and pain starts to blur, so he's pretty sure they could've, _ y'know, _ tried for a third consecutive orgasm.

"Are you still alright?", Dimitri asks, worry clear in his voice. He can only imagine the puppy look since his neck can no longer support his head, his entire musculature reduced to a sentient mass of pudding– yep, he can feel every single one of those little spasms forcing his cunt to clench with all the strength he can muster, _ and he's pretty sure so can Dima. _

** _"Yuh.", _ **is all Claude can say. He definitely needs a moment to gather himself. 

_ But it seems like Dimitri has different ideas. _

It's much to his disdain that the other pulls out, but there's no way he can voice that properly right now, so he settles for scoffing loudly. _ However, _ the fact that Dimitri gently urges him to roll onto his side with a nudge to his shoulder instills him with confidence. 

Once Claude is resting on his side, his lover settles behind him and presses gentle pecks to his shoulder as he hikes his leg up– _ and by the Goddess, _ he can feel every single muscle in his body ache, but somehow his thighs got the worst of it. But even with his mushy brain, he gets what his lover is trying to do, a hand reaching down to guide Dimitri's cock to his entrance. A weak moan and a shiver are wrung from his throat when his lover is fully sheathed inside him anew, Dimitri's broad hand brushing up from his knee across the length of his thigh to settle at his hip. 

_ It's still hard to fathom that _ ** _this big, burly oaf of a guy_ ** _ is capable of being so tender and careful. _ The whole thing makes those disgusting butterflies flutter from Claude's stomach into his chest, like Dimitri made flowers bloom in his ribcage. His lover seems to be taking his sweet time, fully savoring how close their bodies are, while caressing whatever untouched patch of his skin he can find right now. _ A rather abrupt change of pace. _ One that he doesn't entirely agree with.

Claude clenches around him tight, that smug grin sneaking its way back onto his face.

The noise he manages to draw from Dimitri is all kinds of divine and even above that, low and throaty in tone. He can feel his lover's burning hot forehead fall against his shoulder, shallow breaths huffed across his skin.

"How are you holding up?", Claude asks and it's one of those half-mocking, half-genuine inquiries again. There may be a smirk on his face, but his tone of voice is tender, definitely not matching his expression. "I'd feel awful if I got you all worked up like this and– _ a-and nothing came from it." _

"... Was that a pun? _ Really?", _ Dimitri retorts, the fact that he's holding in his laughter very obvious in his voice. However, even with the topic of conversation at hand, his lover– _ the horny bastard– _ starts moving, taking it nice and slow.

Pfft, he didn't even think of his wording, but he's right. That _ could _ be seen as a pun. "M-maybe–" He tries his best to speak clearly but in the end he _ moans _ more than anything else. Dimitri's teeth find his nape, carefully grazing it. He can feel his dumb smile on his skin when he presses a kiss to it. He needs to fuck off with how cute he's being. Even if it's laughing over an unintended pun in the middle of sex. 

Although feeling a bit unsatisfied with the change of pace, Claude now finds the slow pace rather nice, especially with how wrecked he is. The weight of Dimitri's arm at his waist is almost comforting, only adding to the entire array of sensations and feelings. A quiet moan right by his ear causes him to shiver, clenching around the other's cock in response, only to earn himself another one of those cute moans. _ Hah, feedback loop. _

"Lemme hear how good I make you feel, Dima.", Claude hums, chewing on his bottom lip when Dimitri manages grind against a particular spot within him. 

The response is just about instantaneous. 

There's soft huffs and sighs at first, soon bleeding into full-blown moans. Surprisingly he manages to keep his gentle and slow pace for the most part, only picking up the speed a tad bit. Considering the fucking ordeal of orgasms he just went through, Claude is fine with not cumming this time– well, Dimitri sees otherwise, apparently. Featherlight touches to his clit cause his hand to grasp his lover's wrist, already trembling from such minor contact.

_ "Right back at you.", _ he hears Dimitri say, and is met with the sensation of his tongue pressing against the shell of his ear, teeth nipping at his ear lobe after.

Now that his lover points it out, he's been holding his noises in quite a bit– mostly due to the fact that his voice sounds absolutely awful. Coarse and throaty, like he's been smoking three pipes a day for the past twenty years. It doesn't hurt when he eventually starts moaning too, but it's uncomfortable, to say to the least. Something else that's _ vastly _ uncomfortable is the build up to another orgasm expanding in his abdomen. This time there's some pain bleeding into his voice, moans coming out choked. However, another firm circle drawn on his clit and a well-angled thrust frees him of his sexual predicament. 

A drawn out groan breaks out of his throat, voice going staccato with Dimitri's pace, as he shakes in his lover's hold. By this point, it pretty much feels like cumming without what makes it good. His own contractions are no longer pleasurable and remind him more of cramps than anything else. The last few thrusts from Dimitri are especially bad though, leaving him to wince in his tight embrace. Again, the other's sweat-clad forehead falls to his shoulder and a high-pitched whimper wells up in his throat, his grasp shaking near violently.

_ Yep, cumming. _ In fact, Claude can feel it. He's pulsing inside of him and there's even a miniscule but still noticeable amount of pressure building. _ Seems like he really was holding (almost) everything in for him. _

Dimitri remains taut behind him for another moment, before he eventually falls against him, completely limp from one moment to the other. Both of them are heaving loudly. Claude barely manages to reach back in order to sink his fingers into Dimitri's hair, gently caressing his scalp with a trembling hand. In response he earns himself a nuzzle to his shoulder, his lover pulling him closer to him so that his chest rests on Claude's back all the way.

They're all kinds of sweaty and gross, but neither can muster the energy to move and rather choose to wallow in post-coital bliss. 

"I hope you don't need me to be anywhere tomorrow.", Claude says, shaking back to the living after his eyes had already started falling shut against his will.

But all he gets in response is a snore. Dimitri just fell asleep. ** _Fucking asshole._ ** Usually he would've elbowed him back to the living, but considering he already has enough trouble staying awake without doing anything, he doesn't even want to think about moving. The most he manages is pull the other's cock out of him and attempt some damage control with the towel that's still under his ass. 

It doesn't even take five seconds for him to conk out immediately after.

______________

  


And it only feels like a whole goddamn five seconds of sleep before he wakes up again. 

Claude is disoriented as all hell. His head is pounding, eyes crusted to hell and back, and don't even get him started on his body. He's still resting beneath the warm covers but even the thought of getting up causes him pain. He aches all-fucking-over. There's birds singing outside too, their little chirps grating on his ear drums.

A loud groan forces itself out of him as he pulls the blanket over his head in hopes of drowning the goddamn birds out. But then he sneezes once, twice, then three times, forcing him to uncover his head again.

_ Yeah, that's a no from him. Fuck breakfast. _ _Dear Sylvie can ogle his own boyfriend for once._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! (come yell at me on twitter @ bunshima fellas)


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